In The Fray
by thegirlbehindtheredpen
Summary: Loss. Grief. Love. Everyone has a struggle to overcome in Tree Hill. Sam's foster brother died and she suspects it has something to do with the secretive boy named Jack Daniels. Brooke is a new foster mom trying to raise a teenager in grieving while falling in love with a man named Julian. This is their story about family and love and finding them in the most unexpected places.
1. The Boy, Not the Drink

**C** hapter 1: The Boy, Not the Drink

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill, any of the characters, references of quotes used in any episodes, or episode titles. For syntax purposes, I will not identify what is a purposeful quote reference. If you have any questions about quotes used, feel free to PM me and I will identify them for you. I do own everything else. So don't plagiarize or sue me, please.**

Dear Cooper,

I can't remember what foster home I was in when I dropped the family goldfish bowl on the floor. I was six, too stupid to throw it back in water, too curious to even try. I can't remember how long I stood over it. The tail kept flailing up and down, until eventually it stopped. I couldn't understand why it could only breathe in water when humans so easily breathed in the air. You found me later, still hovering over the dead fish and puddle. Do you remember? That was the first time we had ever spoken. Foster kids never really associated with one another. It was easier that way.

"What are you waiting for? It isn't going to come back to life."

"Why?" I had asked.

"Because it can only survive with water. It's dead."

You held me while I cried myself to sleep that night, feeling like the world's worst human being. You cleaned the broken tank off the floor, and put the dead fish in a cup of water until the next day, when we flushed it together. You took the blame for killing their fish and went to bed without dinner.

I feel like that dying goldfish now, suffocating and choking on the very same air that I used to breathe freely in. Everyone around me is perfectly fine, and yet somehow I still sit in the darkness of your room and wonder the same thing I did the moment I found out you were gone: _why_. Brooke takes me to a therapist, a balding man with a curly mustache whose endless rows of degrees have seemed to only teach him one thing; that everything happens for a reason. And he loves to constantly remind me of this. It's bullshit Cooper. That's what death is. There isn't some greater power who orchestrated your death, or a grand reason as to why you're gone. No amount of therapists could ever convince me of that. You're just gone. And on the really hard days, I hate you for it.

Today was a really hard day, Coop.

-Sam

Sam never wrote in pencil. So when tears fell, which they often did, her letters would become messes of blurred black ink and water stains. She tried to write a letter a week, though on some days when her anger consumed her, or when she missed him so badly it hurt, she wrote less. The letters began piling up in her room and the words she never said to him were sooner burying her alive instead of giving her any relief. So she began sending them to the graveyard, his plot number scrawled haphazardly on the front of the envelope. The letters were never sent back, and responses never came. She appreciated their disappearance, and it was easier to write him letters than talk to a headstone.

It was hard for her to remember days when she didn't ache. Everything around her seemed to relate to Cooper, a boy who was larger than life, and even more so in death. Grief consumed her and sealed her away from anything else. Anger kept her there. The ceiling fan rotated lazily, and out of her peripheral she saw Brooke lean against the doorframe of the bedroom, crossing her arms. The dark circles that hung beneath her eyes and the jutting veins on her neck made her seem much older than her twenty three years.

Brooke was one of the better foster homes that she had been placed into. Cooper was supposed to be there too, but died before the move.

"Are you gonna get out of there?" Brooke asked, exasperation seeping into her voice.

"When I have something better to do," Sam replied, voice gritty.

She felt bad for this woman; one who always wanted kids but learned she could never have any. Now that she got them, one was dead and the other was half a person. She didn't even get to know Cooper at all, and for that she was grateful. Brooke was a good person, and wouldn't be able to come back from a loss like this, not once she got to know Cooper. She was certain that she, herself, couldn't.

Brooke walked over, her green eyes glowing brightly even in the dark.

"Go for a walk. Get some fresh air, at least for a few minutes."

Internally, Sam groaned. The last time she went out she was intercepted at the grocery store by some moms of boys on Cooper's rugby team. _Poor girl,_ their eyes screamed. Instead they gave polite smiles and asked how she was coping, and if she ever needed _anything_ at all, just to call them up. Sam didn't think any of them even knew her name until Cooper's eulogy. Before she left, she heard one whisper, ' _she looks terrible.'_ That was the last time she'd been out in days. It was easier to try to cope alone. She was judged less for the time it took her to adjust to life without him.

She took her hand, standing up. If going out for fifteen minutes eased some of Brooke's worries, it was the least she could do.

"Hey," Brooke stopped her. "I want to help you through this. But you need to be trying too Sam."

She nodded, throat constricting, "I know."

The mid-July heat was stifling. The humid covered her in a cloud as she walked briskly to the shore. Their old foster home was on the other side of Tree Hill, beyond the train tracks in a tiny apartment filled with younger kids and two foster parents eagerly awaiting their checks. The age difference between Cooper and Sam caused the government to move them to Brooke's, a townhouse by the shore. Sam remembered the overwhelming relief she had when she found out they were leaving together. She couldn't remember having a family, and Cooper was the closest thing to it. Both were going to be able to continue attending Tree Hill High, not that it mattered much to Sam, who was an introvert as long as she could remember.

Sam passed the school and turned to the left, walking to the cliffs that hovered over the ocean. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost yelped in surprise when she saw a white t-shirt clad back sitting on the edge of the cliff. Her foot crumbled against pebbles and the person turned, lips dipping into a scowl to match stormy brown eyes. She froze.

Before the night Cooper died, Jack Daniels wasn't even a blimp on Sam's radar. They had been thrown together as partners in science class during ninth grade, a misguided attempt by the teacher to help Sam find someone who understood her 'complicated background'. Unlike Sam's past though, Jack's wasn't complicated at all. He was the product of teen pregnancy, named after the drink his mother loved more than him. He was transferred to live with his older brother Xavier instead. So while Sam did the entire project herself, he enjoyed teenage rebellion, his attitude fitting his namesake.

The only things she really knew about him was that he liked to chain smoke, never styled his hair, and was the last person she'd seen talking to her brother before he died. They never associated with each other, and weren't even friends. So when she'd been interviewed by police his was the only name on her list of people with potential involvement in Cooper's death.

He was looking out to the ocean when he spoke, "You better leave, I might just end up killing you."

Bitterness travelled in his raspy voice to where she stood, frozen in place. He cocked his head to the side and peered at her from his peripheral. His words were telling her to leave him alone, but his eyes were screaming at her; _come sit. I fucking dare you._ She stomped to the edge of the cliff, putting enough distance between them that if he really did want to kill her, he'd have to try to reach her before pushing her into the ocean.

"I never did get a chance to ask you why you assumed I was a murderer. Hell, I knew we weren't friendly, but to try to get me thrown in prison? Had I done something to make you that pissed at me?"

She fidgeted with the hemline of her t-shirt.

"You and Cooper weren't friends."

"No, we barely talked. Didn't mean I wanted him dead."

"If you weren't friends then why were you with him the night he died?"

Though he knew of her accusations, hearing it personally seemed to startle him like a smack in the face. He started shaking his head.

"I wasn't with him the night he died."

 _Bullshit_ , she thought.

"I _saw_ you with him," Sam argued. "Jeans, black t-shirt, messed up hair," she said, arms waving over him, "and smoking a joint. It was late, and you were waiting for him after his rugby practice and spoke in the parking lot. You were angry and kept pushing at his shoulders. You even blew smoke in his face. I saw it with my own eyes, so don't sit there and lie."

"I'm telling you it wasn't me. Even the police checked my story, I visiting my mom at the hospital."

"So you keep saying. But I saw you."

Trepidation leaked into her voice. The more time that passed from the night she saw Jack and Cooper, the more she began to second guess herself. Was it Jack? It was dark that night. She was sitting in the back of Cooper's car. Cooper refused to tell her what was going on.

"I'm not crazy."

It was a murmur, not meant for Jack's ears. So when he heard her hesitant self-reassurance, his spine tensed, and he ran a hand through his hair.

Jack always came to the cliffs whenever he needed to gain some perspective or calm. More often than not, it was quiet and isolated. There were a few times when people would come to take pictures above the water, use it for a make-out spot, or to have a picnic, but after the incident everyone stayed away. His visits to the cliffs never ceased after the incident which made him look much more guilty. Jack Daniels, suspected murderer, who is seen always hanging out at the site of the murder? He's definitely guilty. In the end, the police had proven what was true all along; Jack was no murder, and he wasn't with Cooper Mavis the night he died. If only he could convince the girl beside him.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and Sam flinched subtly. Internally, he scoffed. _Not scared, my ass._ She reminded him of an aggressive kitten; quick to pull out the fangs, but just as quick to flee. Exaggerating his movements, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He wondered if it would bother her, but fuck it, he was dying for a cig. The tension was thick and he needed something to take the edge off. He was surprised she was still sitting with him.

Putting it into the corner of his mouth, he paused and said, "I really don't know what you want from me. If it's a confession, you'd be stupid to think you're getting one."

The afternoon sun was beginning to set and Jack lit up the end of his cigarette, careful not to blow any smoke in her direction. When Sam and Cooper first came to the high school, Jack didn't even know they were siblings. She had brown hair and hazel eyes. Cooper had jet black hair and blue eyes. They didn't look similar in appearance at all. So when he found out they were foster kids, not blood related but considered each other siblings nonetheless, he envied their relationship. It was the kind he wished he had with his own brother.

"You can stop staring now," she muttered, feeling the pebbles beneath her fingertips. Jack didn't realize he had been looking at her at all. Taking the time to analyze her, it was clear she wasn't well at all. She was extremely pale, thin, and fighting just to keep her eyes awake.

"You're sure you've never spoken to him before?" Sam felt defeated. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted from him. Maybe, if he confessed, she could finally figure out _why_.

Jack stayed silent. He _had_ been lying this whole time. However, the only time he had ever spoken to Cooper was brief and insignificant. Revealing it to the cops and his brother would make it seem like there was a connection, when there really wasn't one at all. His silence was long enough that Sam looked up from staring out into the ocean, cocking her brow.

He exaggerated his movements once more. He took one last, long drag of his cigarette before crushing it against the ground of the cliff and reaching into his back pocket once more. She could screw him over if she told the police, and the investigation could be opened once again. He hoped he wouldn't regret it. She heard the crinkling of paper, and he brought forth a delicately folded triangle.

"I'm not sure if this counts as speaking," he said, handing it over to her.

Her heart leapt into her chest and with trembling fingers, she opened the paper. It was yellowing a little from age, with multiple crease lines showing where it had been folded time and time again. The blue ink bled in some places, but the writing was legible, and it was Cooper's.

-graduate with honours

-date a cheerleader

-receive scholarship

-become rugby captain

-move out of foster home

-find bigfoot

-pay for sam's college tuition, give her a better life

The last point on the list made her throat tighten.

"Where did you find this? Did he have it with him when you killed him?"

The words were hollow. Sam wasn't sure if Jack murdered Cooper, and he knew it too. Because Sam remembered making a very similar list at the beginning of the school year. _Write down your aspirations,_ the homeroom teacher had said, _now give it to me. I'll mix them up and give them to another student. Live your lives without constantly thinking about them. At the end of the year, you'll receive them back and can cross off the ones that you've forgotten about because the ones that are left will be the goals you should aspire to achieve in order to truly be happy._

They were all crossed off except for the last one.

"His biggest goal in life was to see you happy."

Sam swallowed, "Are you sure it wasn't to find bigfoot?"

He smiled sadly. Jack felt a tightness in his chest, a sense of camaraderie falling upon him for the girl who had lost so much and had more similarities to him than she would ever know.

"Well, he basically screwed his own list over when he died, didn't he?" she swallowed. "Why did you still have this anyway?"

"He forgot it in homeroom, and I never had a chance to give it back."

Sam stared at the tide below them, beating against the sand, and up again to the sky, where it was dark. "It's late, I should be getting home. Brooke will shit her pants if I don't come home soon."

She stood, dusting the rocks and dust off the back of her legs and held the paper out to Jack.

He shook his head, "Keep it. It was never mine."

Sam left, a mess of tangled brown hair with tears in her eyes, and Jack remained perched on the cliff, no closer to gaining perspective than when he came. Sam had seemed to only pull him away from it.

 **A/N: Jack will obviously be a little out of character, and Cooper is Sam's teenaged foster brother. In terms of characters, this will revolve around not only Sam and Jack, but others in Tree Hill as well.**

 **I hope you enjoy the first chapter. Chapter 2 should be up sometime soon. Please leave me a review; it's nice to hear that anyone is reading this. xx**


	2. For Anyone Who Had a Heart

**C** hapter 2: For Anyone Who Had a Heart

 **Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill, any of the characters, references of quotes used in any episodes, or episode titles. For syntax purposes, I will not identify what is a purposeful quote reference. If you have any questions about quotes used, feel free to PM me and I will identify them for you. I do own everything else. So don't plagiarize or sue me, please.**

"You didn't see her, Peyton," Brooke murmured into her phone. "She's so quiet. It's like she isn't even here."

It was starting to get late and Brooke was starting to regret her decision to make Sam go out.

"What if she doesn't decide to come back?" Brooke worried.

"Brooke, where else is she gonna go?"

She huffed indignantly, "I've been in her position before Peyton. When things got so bad between Victoria and Ted, I would just leave. And then I'd get wasted, or lost. And in the morning I'd find myself either hung-over, lying on someone's lawn, or in bed with a boy I didn't even know."

Brooke remembered how hard it was in highschool for a girl to feel like she didn't have a home. Or a family.

"That's different. You didn't have anyone looking out for you at home. She has you."

"But god, I don't even know if she _likes_ me Peyton. I'm trying so damn hard, but how am I supposed to connect to her? I didn't even know her brother, and I don't feel one tenth of the amount of grief she must feel."

She could almost see Peyton shaking her head through the other line.

"So just be the Brooke Davis that you are for me. Think about all the times you comforted me when I was crying over my mom- _both_ of them. All you have is Bitchtoria," she laughed. "so you couldn't possibly understand. But somehow you made it just a little bit better. Trust me, if anyone can give that girl what she needs it's you. Just give it time."

She nodded, tears in her eyes, "Thanks P. Sawyer." Her eyes widened when she saw Sam trudging up the driveway. "I gotta go, she's here and I don't want to look like I was just sitting by the door, she'll feel smothered." She quickly hung up and threw the phone on the table by the door, jumping onto the sofa and grabbing her magazine.

"Sorry I was out so late," Sam said, shutting the door quietly behind her.

She had seen Brooke waiting by the door, talking frantically to someone on the phone. When she saw Sam coming, she ran to the sofa. Sam didn't mind being waited on. In fact, it was sort of nice; the feeling that someone cared where you were and when you were coming back to them.

Brooke smiled, unknowingly holding the magazine upside down. Sam stifled a laugh.

"Did it help?" Brooke asked.

Sam thought about Jack Daniels and the paper that weighed heavily in her bag.

"Yeah, actually, I think it did."

"Well, I'm glad," Brooke nodded. "Want dinner? I could make us a salad...or a, um, roast?"

Internally Brooke was cringing. Before Sam, she barely had time to cook for herself with her new line at Clothes Over Bros being so successful. She'd grab takeout, or Haley would drop off leftovers. Some nights, she'd munch on whatever was around. That was alright for her, but she wanted to offer Sam what every child needed after a long day; a nice home-cooked meal. That is, if she could pull it off. Brooke was never good at this cooking thing.

Sam hadn't been with Brooke that long, and in the time that she had, Brooke had a meal prepared and waiting for her every dinner. All were edible, and admittedly, some didn't taste _amazing._ Brooke tried, at least. But Sam was also a teenager, and at the risk of sounding ungrateful or demanding, all she wanted was a big, greasy, cheese pizza.

"Sure, whatever you want."

Sam sounded indifferent.

"Well, if you're not hungry-"

Sam's stomach growled.

"Well that answers that question," Brooke pointed. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Honestly?" Sam asked. "I want pizza."

"Pizza?"

Sam nodded. "I really, really, want pizza."

"Pizza it is then," she replied, grabbing her keys and purse. She was grinning. _Finally,_ she could do something right for the teenager now living with her.

The pizzeria was filled with people. Some Sam didn't know, and others she did. Either way most stared as they walked in, Brooke pacing briskly over to the host.

"Hi, table for two please," she asked.

The waitress' eyes widened, "You're Brooke Davis."

"And I'm hungry," Sam piped in from behind her.

"I _love_ your line! I've been ordering your clothes ever since the original site launched a few years ago, and when I heard you opened a store here in Tree Hill, I almost couldn't believe it. I always come by but seem to miss you!"

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it," Brooke smiled politely. It was a small town, and though most were used to her presence, others still freaked out a little bit when they saw the influential and successful Brooke Davis walking around their town, eating in their diners, and shopping in their small businesses. Most forgot that she had lived here most of her life. Most ignored that she used to be Tree Hill's tramp back in her high school days. But Tree Hill had always been home, whether people believed she belonged there or not.

"Can I get your autograph?"

"Can we get a table?" Sam asked.

"Sure, of course." Brooke quickly took the napkin from the host and scribbled her autograph on it.

"So what was it like starting your own business at such a young age?"

"What's it like to actually eat here?" Sam retorted, and Brooke withheld her smile, hushing Sam out of the side of her mouth.

"Exhilarating, really. So if you think you can't do something because of age, remember anything is possible. I'm sorry to cut things short, but could we get a booth for two? Somewhere private? We're a little short on time."

"Of course!"

The chipper little brunette lead them to an isolated corner where Sam sat with a heave.

"Is it always like that for you?"

"Yup."

"How are you _so nice_ to everyone that approaches you?"

"Well Samantha, first of all, it helps to be nice to waitstaff. That way you don't have spit in your food. And second of all, I have spend way too much time being a bitch to people when I was younger. And sometimes, to people who didn't deserve it."

"You?" Sam scoffed.

Sam had seen Brooke in many moods: angry, sad, strict, childish, stubborn, but never had she ever seen Brooke be a bitch. She didn't even know how famous Brooke was. Sam realised that she didn't know much about her new foster 'mother' at all. Cooper would have liked her. There was a sincerity in all her actions that Sam hadn't come across within a foster home in a long, long time.

Brooke nodded, swallowing, "Yep. When I was in highschool."

"What were you like?"

She shot Sam a sly grin. "Pick a girl in this room who you think I was in highschool."

There were Tree Hill High Ravens everywhere. It was a Saturday night, and high school students all gathered in the pizzeria. There were students of almost every social standing eating, and as Brooke glanced around she could almost picture a high school Brooke sitting at a table with Peyton and Haley. The image brought a smile to her face.

Their pizza arrived and Sam picked up a piece as she glanced around the room.

"One of them." She nodded her head towards the direction of girls who sat before summer school books, chatting animately about the courses they had left until they could graduate early.

"Why do you say that?" Brooke questioned, chewing on her slice.

"Well, you're so successful, I figure you must have worked hard in school."

Brooke's mouth quirked to the side. "I am going to tell you something, and you have to promise you won't hold it against me as bad parenting."

Sam looked curiously at Brooke, "Go on."

"I was one of them," she motioned to the loudest table in the room. Girls were decked out in blue and white, with pom poms surrounding the table. They had just finished a weekend cheer practice.

Sam looked at her incredulously, "You? A cheerleader?"

Brooke hummed. "Cheer captain in fact. I didn't really pay attention to my grades." She snaps her fingers, pointing at Sam's face. "But that _doesn't_ mean you don't need to."

She put her hands up, "Understood. You must've had lots of boyfriends."

Brooke narrowed her eyes, "I was... _friendly._ "

Sam nibbled on the edge of her crust, "What changed?"

"Well, sometimes I got tired of being a bitch. Believe it or not, it was kind of isolating. But mainly good friends. I had Peyton, and Haley, and even Lucas. I liked the person I was with them, and when I was that person, I didn't feel so lost. So, I tried to be more like that girl until I didn't need to try anymore." Brooke reached across the booth and held Sam's forearm. "So I can understand what a great impact a friend can make. I may not know what you're going through, and I may not be your mother, but I hope I can at least be a friend for you Sam."

The notion made Sam's eyes well with tears, and she pulled away, looking back down at her plate. Brooke softened. She, out of all people, could spot vulnerability and the reluctance to show it.

"So, _friend_ ," Brooke emphasized, "Who's that cute boy who keeps looking over here?"

Sam's eyes snapped back up, "Who?"

Brooke made big eyes at someone behind Sam's shoulder. Slowly, she turned and there he was: white t-shirt, black jeans, messy hair.

" _That_ is Jack Daniels."

Brooke gaped. "Jack Daniels as in possible murderer Jack Daniels?"

"The one and the only," Sam replied wryly.

"How _dare_ he show up here and even look at you? I might as well go over there and-"

"Woah, woah, retract the claws Mama bear," Sam pulled Brooke back in her seat.

"Sam, we can leave if he's making you uncomfortable. Hell, that creep can leave."

"No, no, it's fine." Sam paused, "Uh, actually I saw him today."

"Did he try to hurt you?" She gasped.

"No, it was nothing like that. I saw him out by the cliffs, and I was pissed off. I actually confronted him about it."

"And?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. I used to be so sure it was him, but maybe I just blamed him because he looked like the guy I saw and I needed someone to blame, you know?"

"What was he like?"

"He wasn't a bad, actually. And that kind of makes me feel worse."

Brooke pushed her brown hair to the side and leaned in closer, "You couldn't have known, Sam. You told the police what you saw. There's no reason to feel bad for it."

She tried to smile, "Yeah, I know."

"However, next time can you maybe _not_ hang out with shady characters by cliffs?"

Sam laughed, genuinely, for the first time since moving in with Brooke. "Sure. I guess that wouldn't be too much of a sacrifice."

"Good. My old heart wouldn't be able to take it."

Across the pizzeria, Jack looked at Sam through his peripheral. When word spread throughout the town that the one and only fashion designer Brooke Davis was fostering children, Jack expected it to be a mere baby. He expected the young designer to strive for becoming Tree Hill's new Angelina Jolie. He couldn't imagine how the two got along.

He finished his slice quickly, motioning for the waitress and handed her some money. "I'd like to pay for that table over there as well."

The waitress smiled, "Anything you'd like me to tell them?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair, "Uh, no it's ok. Actually wait," he said as the waitress began to walk away. "Could you maybe _not_ mention who paid their bill?"

Jack didn't want Sam to take it the wrong way, and he didn't need Brooke Davis chasing him and hitting him with her purse.

The waitress nodded, "Sure."

Across the room, Sam and Brooke were waiting for take out containers to pack the leftovers.

"You know, high school Brooke would really kill me for this, but parental responsible Brooke needs to do this."

Sam waited.

"Just a couple house rules okay? Breakfast every morning at seven a.m sharp. No sneaking out and _no_ boys in your bedroom."

She nodded, "Doesn't seem too bad."

Brooke reached over and grabbed Sam's hand, "I do not want you to take this the wrong way considering all that's happened recently, but I want you to like living with me Sam."

Sam nodded. "I'll try."

And that was the truth. With Cooper gone, all she could do lately was try. Although the tightness in her chest didn't seem to cease for a minute, she would have to get used to it; a life without her brother. She had lived without him before. She just never believed she would have to do it again.

"Sometimes it's just hard, you know?"

"That's when I need you to come to me. Sam, I can't help you if you aren't willing to be helped, okay?"

Sam thought of the waitress in the cafe who had her eyes and her smile, and looked at her without even recognizing her. Her own mother gave up on her and she just hoped that Brooke wouldn't either.

"Okay."

The take out boxes arrived and Sam began packing the pizza.

"Could I also get the check please?"

"Oh, it's already been taken care of."

Sam looked up.

"By who?" Brooke questioned.

"Sorry, they didn't want me to say."

Sam looked over to where Jack had been. His table was cleaned, chair tucked in. She had a feeling the mysterious boy shelled out more money to pay for their dinner, but she had no idea why.

"You know," Brooke said, green eyes gleaming, "you can't have boys in your bedroom, but I never said anything about boys in the living room with parental supervision."

Sam let out a wry chuckle, "Yeah, right."

 **A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed or added this story to their alerts. I really appreciate it. The oth fandom is small, so if you know anyone else you think would like this story, I would love it if you could recommend it to them as well. Please review to let me know what you think. It's hard to keep writing when you're not sure if anyone is reading.**

 **Next up, Brooke meets Julian. See you next chapter.**

 **XX**


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